


You know...Like Cats

by knaveofmogadore



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types, The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: M/M, Sick Character, Whump, do people still say "whump"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: John Smith, newest and last Pittacus Lore, the only garde to wield Ximic, future world leader, superpowered bisexual teenager, can get taken down by a lumen induced fever and a cold.





	You know...Like Cats

**Author's Note:**

> HOW LONG HAVE WE WAITED FOR JAM! SEVEN YEARS OF IT! IN AZKABAN! IT'S BEEN FOUR YEARS SINCE THE LAST TIME THIS TAG WAS UPDATED AND I'M DRUNK ON POWER! NO EDITING WE DIE LIKE MEN.

The great John Smith, one of the saviors of earth and future world leader, is collapsed spread eagle on his bed in a pair of boxers and his boyfriend’s t-shirt. He has a case of bedhead worthy of the worst dollar store tabloids. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes glassy, and every few minutes a horrible noise comes out of the back of his chest. The curtains were drawn an hour ago to prevent an oncoming headache.

Sam Goode, first human to develop legacies and internet renowned alien fucker, is perched on a beanbag beside the bed. He is surrounded by the blankets John keeps pushing away. Sam is cradling John’s head in one hand and petting him the best he can. With the other he is holding John’s hand and running his thumb over the scars on his knuckles. 

“John, I think you’re sick.” 

Calling what John did in response a sniffle is too polite. “I don’t have time to be sick.” 

Sam pulls his hand away for a moment to lay a fresh cool cloth from the nightstand over John’s forehead. It begins to dry almost instantly. John unfolds it and pulls it over his entire face to get as much use out of it as possible. His Lumen has let his fever climb much higher than a human could ever tolerate, but maybe if he _thinks_ that it’s helping it might still do something.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think germs really give a shit,” Sam says. 

John, the most powerful creature on earth, whines from the back of his throat like a toddler. This triggers a coughing fit that lasts for the next several minutes. Sam turns him over on his side and rubs his back until it subsides. John had not even noticed him move. He and his aching ribs appreciate that Sam continues the massage even after he’s done trying to cough his lung out onto the bed. They stay like this for a while, and eventually drift closer until John’s head ends up in Sam’s lap.

“You know,” John starts slowly, “You know cats?” 

Sam snorts, “Yeah, I know about cats.” 

There is a fog rolling over the inside of John’s mind so thick he is having trouble seeing his own thoughts. The world sounds like his ears are stuffed with cotton and beeswax. Sam has starting doing this trailing motion up and down his neck with his fingernails, and the sensation is sending a pleasant tingle down all of his nerves. It takes him several minutes to remember that he is trying to say something. 

“No,” John slurs, “You know how cats, they um,” he licks his lips, “you know how they squish each other?” 

Sam’s brow pinches in confusion as he laughs softly. John’s skin is singing the tips of his fingers. 

“Squish each other, huh?” 

“Yeah! You know how they um,” John pauses to remember the word, the seconds turning into a minute and a half.

“Yeah?” 

John smiles triumphantly up at Sam like he’s figured out the secrets of the universe, “You know how they lay on each other! Like cats,” he gestures weakly and vaguely, “they lay in tangle piles and you can’t figure out which cat is which. Cat.” 

Sam nods like he understands. On the inside he is as confused as he ever has been, but he figures that this isn’t exactly rational thought anyway. The skin on the tips of his fingers feels tender and numb, so he goes back to rubbing John’s back through his shirt. There is another stretch of silence passed like this. 

“I want what cats have,” John mumbles. 

This gives Sam an idea. He pushes at John’s shoulder until John responds with another pitiful whine. 

“What is it?” 

“Hey,” Sam slides John off of his lap and pushes him upward, “sit up for me, just for a minute or two.” 

John follows Sam’s lead. He is swaying a bit from side to side but he doesn’t seem to notice. It’s cute, Sam thinks, or at least it would be if he didn’t know that John is trying to cook the germs away with his lumen. He disappears for what feels like an eternity to John, hours, maybe even the entire day. 

Sam is gone five minutes and comes back with his arms full of pillows from elsewhere in John’s house. He begins meticulously arranging these into a pile at the head of John’s bed, tucking them around and laying them over what John had already gathered there when he had started feeling symptoms yesterday. John watches this display with a bemused smile. It takes another few minutes before Sam is satisfied with his nest. 

Sam reaches forward and guides John into laying down on his stomach within the nest. He moves pillows around some more as John wiggles into a position where he can comfortably breathe. Then he straddles John’s hips, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of him, and does his own wiggle dance until his body is settled like a weight on top of John’s. Sam’s face naturally finds the space in John’s shoulder and rests there, breathing cool air over John’s burning skin. His legs shift into the spaces between and around John’s avoiding skin to skin contact where he can. He wraps his arms under and around John and finally, finally is still. 

“Better?”

Sam thinks John is already starting to sound better, but it might just be the pillow muffling how rough his voice is. “I think you might be too small for what you’re trying to do.” 

“Is it helping or not, asshole?” 

John forgoes responding entirely. Talking is beginning to feel like a laborious chore, or like lifting a building with his telekinesis, or overextending his legacies. Instead he turns his wrist and captures Sam’s hand in his own, tangling their fingers together. He pulls it close to brush his burning lips over the back of his hand in an attempt at a kiss. There is more long silence. 

Long after Sam thinks John has fallen asleep, he hears him speak again. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispers. 

Sam snorts into the crook of John’s neck, “You don’t have to thank me, this is kind of my job as your boyfriend. Taking care of you when you feel like shit is in the fine print.” 

“Still,” John starts, but he forgets what he wants to say. He settles instead for a soft, “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Sam mumbles into his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> While the healing legacy doesn't seem to be able to kill bacteria, John still wouldn't be able to get sick because anyone with Lumen could ramp up their temperature and bake off whatever is trying to kill them like chicken in a rotisserie oven. Did I let this stop me? Absolutely not.


End file.
